


trapped in eden

by witchpocket



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 12:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14189070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchpocket/pseuds/witchpocket
Summary: katniss is the last of the stone family line of witches and is caretaker of a lovely garden at the center of the forest. but when news of prim, the sister she assumed was lost to her forever, arrives in the form of the dashing peeta mellark, will katniss break out of her own garden walls and fight to save not only her sister, but all of panem?





	trapped in eden

“Krua, katan, kalo..” chanted Katniss mechanically, as she exited her simple log cabin into the ever-blossoming and blooming enchanted garden that stretched outwards in every direction as far as the mortal eye could see. Of course, Katniss was not mortal–well, she was technically half mortal on her father’s side, but that half had lied dormant for so long Katniss sometimes wondered if it was still there. For all intents and purposes, Katniss was a witch, and a powerful one at that. 

She began all of her days with that spell to keep her garden in order–it kept the leaves of the crystalline azure trees from falling, caused the royal purple tomato plants to ready for their daily harvest, woke the chrysanthemum horse creatures out of their ever-constant slumber, and otherwise affected all the other magical life within her enchanted garden. As the only surviving daughter of the famed healer Lilian Stone, it was Katniss’ job to maintain the legacy of her past through her identity as a woodwitch. Sometimes she wondered what else was out there, how the mortals lived, but spell-casting, potion-brewing, and other witch-ly activities were all she knew–she had only spent a few years as a child within common society in town before her father died and her mother retired to the woods for good. Since she had seen the light go out of her mother’s eyes, Katniss had become beyond skeptical of love and romance–for in her eyes, the treasured but fragile love between two people seemed to be the most powerful enchantment of all.

Once Katniss had finished her daily chores–watering plants, bidding all the creatures hello, resolving disputes between the inhabitants of neighboring plots (for example, the chirping of the chicory-winged birds from their house always managed to awaken the chrysanthemum horses before the sun rose, upsetting the later greatly and causing them all to enter into their lunchtime naps prematurely)–she stood upon the wishing well at the center of the garden and observed the vast, wondrous ecosystem of magical chaos that relied on her for leadership and protection. It was the Stone family’s greatest legacy, and Katniss was the only reason it had not fallen into disrepair after her mother’s heartbreak. She had forced her magical awakening before her first menstrual bleeding at age eleven when her mother had reached the catatonic stage in her depression. To this day, she could not explain how or why she had achieved such a feat–she had simply been holding Prim’s trembling, starving, practically comatose body at the foot of her mother’s rocking chair, pleading with the older witch to wake up and help them, while listening to the cries of the unfettered magical creatures outside, and she simply could not take anymore devastation and tragedy. She could not accept that they would die, that all the creatures and plants and magic outside would then die, and that every Stone before her would see the end of their line with her. Suddenly, in a storm of blood and smoke and ghostly voices, Katniss had become a woman–and thus she became a witch. 

Since the transformation, Katniss had labored tirelessly to become the next witch of the Stone line, a role that had befell her over Prim. Prim. Sweet Prim. Katniss could not even think of her little sister’s name without feeling bitter tears stinging her silvery irises. For Katniss could not save her from the clutches of Sorcerer Snow, and while every day she tried to distract herself with the mundane routine of a woodwitch, every day she failed. It was two full years past Prim’s fateful voyage outside the garden, for she was the only mortal who could fathom the gate that separated it from the mortal world, and Katniss still bitterly morned her inability to break Snow’s curse and free her sister. For the first year, Katniss had desperately gone over every enchantment in all of Lilian’s books to no avail, even shaking her mother’s empty, grief-addled body and pleading for an answer to no avail. She spent days standing on the wishing well, or by the gates, or in trees, firing spell after spell to no avail. Snow’s wards enclosed her garden completely from the outside world–and he told her he would never return, nor would she ever see her kidnapped sister again. And it was all her fault, Katniss bemoaned for the millionth time. If only she hadn’t felt the need to help the townspeople, to give the magic berries to the sweet little blonde boy who played with her in school…then Snow would have forgotten her presence entirely, and not accused her of inciting a rebellion of the mortal people that she never even knew existed. No berries were worth her sister’s torture. Not even for a blonde boy with the sweetest smile and bluest eyes…because now, whenever Katniss thought of the eleven-year old boy who had asked for her help to feed his family, she thought of her sister in chains, suffering through every wicked enchantment Snow could conjure up, crying out for Katniss, and probably thinking Katniss didn’t care enough to save her. Katniss sobbed a little at that thought, and wiped her wet cheeks with her calloused palms roughly. She had no time for tears anymore. They didn’t do her any good, and they certainly didn’t do Prim any good.

Now, after a year of pleading and spell-casting and bartering with gods who treated her with nothing but silence, and the following year of emptiness, wallowing, and despair, Katniss had accepted her fate. She would help the garden’s magical inhabitants as long as she could, and then at the end of her very long, guilt-filled life (for even witches passed into the beyond, just as mortals do, and as Katniss suspected her mother would do any day now) she would welcome the eternal consternation from her sister’s spirit, and every other person and creature who she had failed. And that was that. But, for the first time, standing on top of her wishing well that morning, Katniss had a selfish wish. After wtinessing every chrysanthemum horse neigh good morning to their mate, and even every purple tomato plant twine together in pairs, she wished for her pair, her magical soul mate, a mortal man who would steal her heart the way her father had stolen her mother’s. Katniss sighed and shook her head. Wishing for the impossible, and the most selfish impossible thing nonetheless, would do her no good. But she was half-mortal, and the daughter of perhaps the most selfish witch of all in Katniss’ opinion, and perhaps wishing for love was a curse that was just as hereditary to the Stone women as their magical powers. She just wished that she had someone to pass her eternity with before she met her fate in the afterlife, or even just a stolen moment with– 

A large thumping noise caught her attention. She turned around, searching for any creatures escaping from their pens, but only saw a blonde man descending from the tallest azure crystalline tree. “Hello, Katniss.” His voice startled Katniss so much, she practically flew off of the wishing well’s edge. But luckily, two strong arms caught her before her head hit stone. 

She looked into the face of her rescuer and interloper: “Who are you? How did you get here!?” She hadn’t seen another person besides her mother’s empty shell in almost ten years. She had barely spoken out loud in six months, so even forming the spontaneous exclamation felt alien to her. 

The man smiled blindingly at her, the sun illuminating his golden curls with a halo-like effect around his visage. “Oh, how you wound me, Katniss. Am I really that forgettable?” 

Katniss squinted at his face, blinking due to a radiance, emanating from the sun, yes, but mostly him. “It’s you…Peeta…” she rasped, only now seeing the traces of the stout eleven-year old she had encountered in the woods nine years ago. 

“Yes,” he said, as he smoothed her hair away from her face, his large arms pulling her closer towards him. 

“How? Why?” Her brain was wracked with confusion and warring emotions; she could barely speak under the best of times, and now…

He smiled beatifically yet bashfully: “I just missed you, that’s all.” It seemed impossible after so many prior attempts at wishes had failed, but Katniss knew the Stone wishing well had been known to possess a powerful but fickle magic, almost as if the object itself had an omnipotent consciousness that surpassed even human understanding. She realized Peeta was still holding her and heating her cheeks with his intense gaze, and it took her far too long to escape his warm embrace. Of course, her delayed response was just due to shock because she hadn’t been touched or held in so long: it had nothing to do with him, she told herself firmly. 

“But..how did you get here?” I scaled the tree and climbed over the gate.” He puffed his shoulders out, seeming to achieve a burst of confidence by recounting his physical feats.“You can see the gate? But the only one who could was…”

“Prim. I know. She sent me, Katniss.” Peeta’s joyous and amorous gaze had turned serious. She could tell he wasn’t lying, not just because she was a witch.

“What?”

“I was part of the royal guard during her time in prison–”

“Did you hurt her!?” I suddenly pictured Peeta’s broad shoulders holding her in a headlock, and was raising my wand to attack until he responded, raising his arms up in submission: “Katniss. No. My mother married Snow and I had no choice but to join. I’m a double agent and a spy for the revolution. Snow has been using me to try and quell the popular revolts, but it’s not working. We have the numbers, we just need your powers and your leadership on our side. You need to leave this place and help us. You can save Prim, Katniss.”

I couldn’t believe what he was telling me, but I was also frustrated.

“Peeta, I’ve tried every day to leave this place. But Snow trapped me here. I think only the wishing well brought you here and–”

“You’re wrong. I would have done anything to find you. I never forgot about you, Katniss, or that day.”

And Katniss hadn’t either: she remembered the slight drizzle, the burst of fear and then pleasant surprise when the friendly boy from her class at school stumbled upon her singing and collecting berries, his blushing face when he complimented her singing voice and asked about the berries. Katniss told him they were brightlock, and told them of their magical powers of plenty that would solve his town’s hunger crisis in spades. She remembered how his father returned and lead him away, and how Peeta walked backwards, looking at her for as long as he could before they rounded back on the path to town. But Peeta wasn’t done: 

“What you did…it meant the world to me, Katniss. And you have meant the world to me ever since.” The same childlike blush illuminated his much broader, sharper, more mature features. “So I’m going to get you out of here. Not just for you, or for us, but so the rest of Panem can see what I see: that we can be more than pieces in Snow’s games.” 

Katniss nodded slowly, still amazed at his resolve and his reveal, at all that changed within a moment, and how her single, selfish wish might bring down a tyrant, save her sister, and maybe even help her find the magic in her own life again.


End file.
